Arranged Marriage
by buon I qua
Summary: She never expected to fall in love with him. He had an emotional range of a tree bark. And yet, somehow, somewhere along the way, they found out that compromise wasn't that much of a hassle, after all. And then Mikasa came into the picture. (Or maybe she had never left)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for the delusional wistfulness that grates on even MY nerves.

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><p>Theirs was an arranged marriage. A typical, clichéd and skeevy ordeal of making two individuals' lives as miserable as possible for a long (maybe not that long, seeing as they had titans drooling just outside the wall, remaining military polices plotting their deaths in the most painful ways possible, and Captain Levi's patience getting thinner and thinner with age) period of time.<p>

It made sense, really. The Queen of Human and the King of Titan (supposedly so, since titans were never that fond of crowning ceremonies and all). The ultimate ruler and the long-awaited hero. Because a young queen like her would not be enough to hold off the surge of resistance without a decent consort. And because an abnormality like him would only be abominated without an official title that could assure the overall population of his noble quest and absolute loyalty.

So, generally speaking, nobody was _that_ shocked at Erwin's nonchalant suggestion (or was it an order? They never did find the distinction between the two whenever the Survey Corp's Captain were to involved).

He, being an excessive titan homicidal maniac that he was, didn't particularly see anything wrong with this whole arrangement. It wasn't as if he harbor any boiling dudgeon toward Historia, nor did it seem like he suffers from an extreme case of gamophobia. As long as he got to kill titans and find a way out of this sultry, cramped and affected wall, who cared whom and how he must marry?

She, on the other hand, did think about it. She thought of Ymir, of her smirks, her words, her sacrifices for the person she loved, and of her back as she flung away to help Reiner and Bertolt at those last moments. She thought of Eren, of his blue-green eyes that never seemed to see her, of his disdain disinterest in everything Krista did, of his nasty but somehow (and she berated herself severely for this thought) comforting smile he gave Historia the day he recognized her as a likable human being. And so she, too, did not find any apparent reason to object.

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><p>The wedding was more of a show than an actual happy occasion of uniting two people who were (according to popular belief) deeply and nauseatingly in love. Captain Levi was the one who led her down the aisle (with her father being a cursing, sputtering and begging-for-his-life bloody mess in the dungeon -why wouldn't they just kill him? She would be much more relieved if they did...) with his signature frown in place and killing intent leaking all over. The groom looked highly uncomfortable and somewhat constipated all throughout the ceremony (maybe it was his suit, she had never seen him in a suit -a pity, he actually looked quite nice in it). The marriage officiant seemed ready to bolt within a second notice even when the vows were exchanged in the earnest, he even stuttered at the end in the line 'You ma...may kiss the bride' and nearly suffered from a heart attack when Levi leveled a withering glare at him from the front seat. The ring was uneasily tight around her finger and the kiss was customarily awkward at best. But it was fine. She hadn't really expected much.<p>

Still, he had expected even less. He didn't expected Armin's best-man speech to be so long, so emotional, and so _embarrassing_. Armin _did_ know that this wedding was only a basis necessity, right? That they just had to endure it and wait for the next mission outside the wall to come? That no one was actually in love enough with anyone to enjoy hearing his/her humiliating experience when he/she was still in diapers and inexplicably fond of running naked in the rain? Apparently, Armin did not.

Nor did he expect Sasha and Connie's performance to be so excruciatingly _terrible_. Somebody (noted: his newlywed bride) should establish a law that ban compulsive food hoarder and transcendent imbecile with terrible impulse control from singing in public. Heaven knew how many more will perish after hearing it.

And so he stayed there, his face pained and resigned, his hand holding Historia's loosely (as was expected of him), and wished with all his heart that the whole ordeal would process much faster and over with.

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><p>Their wedding night was, for the lack of a better word, predictably uneventful. They sat stiffly beside each other on the bed, feeling more and more stupid as time went by. Fifteen minutes of unbearable silence, and she turned to find him starting to lay down. He chanced a side glance at her still-rigid form, shrugged almost unnoticeably, and closed his eyes. She was frankly confused by then. Should she feel offended? Most people <em>would<em> feel offended, right? But then again, this was Eren Yeager (homicidal maniac with renown titan obsession and all that), what _did_ she expect? She shuffled a bit with the pillow, then laid down next to him. As expected, she didn't get much sleep, at all.

He, for his part, slept like a log. Not at first, no. He was too busy feeling ashamed of himself to actually do something useful for a change. It wasn't as if he didn't know what to do. He did attend the health education course back at the barrack (even though when fellow training soldiers were working their asses off drawing human anatomy, he was busying himself with vivid pictures of dead titans with organs and bones and spines splattered all over the place -it was the same day he found out that he did not possess even the slightest amount of art talent, and not nearly enough moral standard). But yes, the lack of actual practice manifested itself greatly in situations like this. Well, he didn't see her complain, did he? Maybe she was just as relieved as he was when nothing happened. Maybe. Moving a bit restlessly, he turned his back to her -again- rigid form, and willed himself to sleep.

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><p>She was the first to wake up. But then again, she hadn't really slept in the first place. Turning her gaze toward the ceiling, she started thinking. She thought of (once again) Ymir, and wondered briefly if the girl would snap at her for letting others talk her into doing this. She thought of Eren, still sleeping without a care in the world beside her (he didn't move that much, and didn't seem to possess any bad sleeping habit). She pondered over the mixed feeling she had due to what happened (or didn't happen) last night. Did she <em>repulse<em> him? She hoped not. Did she feel any relief at the lack of action that occured? No? What was this _mixed_ feeling she having? Was it normal?

Her mind wandered then, just the slightest bit. For once, she allowed herself to think of Mikasa. What was she doing now, that girl? What was she doing after she had lost him to the hands of some delirious stranger with nothing but a cold crown and empty throne in her name?

Would it be cruel of her to pity the Arckerman girl?

He woke with a pounding headache (wedding or no, he will _not_ allow Horse-face and Armin to talk him into drinking ever again!) and a half-confused state of conscious as his eyes frantically took in everything in front of him. Oh right. Wedding night. Private chamber of the Queen... Historia.

"Do you have a knife?" She asked, her voice low and strangely tired.

"... No? Why?" He turned to her, trying not to sound patronizing. It wasn't his fault that his natural voice had taken turn for the worst when puberty hit him in the face (with a loud _loud_ smack).

She cleared her throat but strained her gaze steadily on his face:

"The sheet... People would expect certain things..."

"...to be found there. I see." He, too, cleared his throat and rolled up his sleeves.

She did not utter a word when he bit down at his hand (hard) and waited till the white sheet in the middle of the bed stained with blood. Krista would have exclaimed in surprise and volunteered to do so herself. But Historia, Historia only sat back almost expressionlessly and accepted that if one of them had to bleed, it was better to be the one that can heal. (No. Her sudden uncalled-for satisfaction had nothing to do with the selfish disappointment she felt yesterday when he turned his back to her and went to sleep. Erwin never _did_ mention wedding night in his order, after all.)

Both of them got up from the bed after that. And though she _knew_ she had no reason to, she somehow couldn't help the twinge of...something in her chest when she watched his back getting further and further from her.

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><p>He was in and out of her life like a dissolved reflection on the water all throughout the next two years. His missions took him further and further away from the wall, from the capital city, and from her. On the rare occasion they <em>did<em> meet, he would only greet her with a slight tilt of the head and a pretentious guileless smile that fooled no one (he got better, though, she'd known that for a fact; as of late, his smile looked sincere enough to fool even her). Their love life was basically non-existence, and even their heart-to-heart talks became scarce and in-between. She worked herself sick, just for the sake of having something to do aside from waiting fervently for mails and swallowing in self-pity. She had come to love that smile of his, the true, sardonic and utterly nasty smile he so often wore. She had come to love his straightforward stares and the way his startling eyes brightened whenever he talked about his trips outside the wall. She had come to love his cynical remarks and candid feelings. She, somehow, somewhere along the way, had come to love _him_. And greatly perturbed by this turn of event.

He didn't think much about her (not when he had titans and Hange's experiments and Levi's mood-swings and Horse-face's antics to worry about, no). But when he did think about her, he felt this unfamiliar feeling of longing spreading furiously across his chest. He missed her, sometimes. Her deadpan stares, her signature hauteur, her tenacious truculence... But he was young, and a bit inept when it came to inner emotions and sentimental depth. So he ignored it. The way he had so meticulously ignored Mikasa's affection for years, the way Jean's jealousy dissolved into nothingness in his eyes since forever, the way he had passed the pain he felt at Annie's betrayer off as the mourning for a loss of a friend. He, aside from being a titan obsessive freak with single-minded ferocity, was also an expert in disregarding mushy feelings in general.

And yet, some deep corner of his brain had taken to groaning in exasperation every time his thoughts strayed toward her. Because a part of him knew, somehow, that he was a already a goner.

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><p>Their <em>real<em> wedding night happened not long after that. Again, it was an awkward business (at first). She climbed on him, her face tight, unyielding and disturbingly accusing. Accusing him of what, even she could not place into words. And yet, for one reason or another, he seemed to _know_. Because he paused for just a second too soon, his face a perfect mixture of surprise, embarrassment, guilt, acceptance and determination. He pulled her tight toward him, dipped his head and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her response was just a tiny bit too eagerly, but she doubted he even notice it.

In the end, the whole thing wasn't quite what she'd expected. A lot less blood, a lot more pain, and a lot of strangled laughs as embarrassing mishaps and pleasure blurred together. He seemed to know what he was doing (somewhat; he either had an amazingly vivid imagination, or many productive experiences -she didn't know exactly how she feel if it was the latter case).

"I'm going tomorrow night." He said as morning came, "Captain Levi gave me three days off at most, and it will take half a day to travel back to the troop's hideout."

"... I see." And she did. Really.

The future of humanity inside these walls depended on him, after all. She wasn't in any position to demand his utmost attention, regardless of how much pain and loneliness it costs her.

His smile then was no longer pretentious, nor did it contain the signature sardonic edge.

It was the first time since Ymir's departure that she felt truly and idiotically happy.

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><p>She started thinking about Mikasa again. It wasn't jealousy, not really. Eren had never seemed to be the type to fall prey for such meager feeling as lust. And love would never be an accurate expression to describe what he had with the Ackerman girl, either.<p>

Still, it was not fair, sometimes. It wasn't fair that Mikasa got to be with him all the time while she stayed helplessly at the palace waiting for mails that rarely came (Eren never did get into the habit of writing, he'd rather spend hours cleaning the post to sooth Levi's Molysomophobia and burning his face off in Hange's experiments). It wasn't fair that he only seemed to be in his liveliest mood when he was outside of the wall, with Mikasa by his side, and she miles away. It certainly was not fair that if anything had happened, Mikasa would have been the one who hold his hand and bid him farewell, while she (his wife) would have had the honor of receiving his cold body and crying alone afterward.

Yet again, she wasn't the one who had to stay on the side to watch him getting married to other girls. Nor was she the one who had to face him nearly everyday with the knowledge that he would never be hers.

Maybe being herself wasn't so bad, after all. She figured that hating Mikasa was as unnatural as hating herself. Knowing Eren, she might as well waste her energy hating the titans instead.

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><p>"She's pregnant, Historia." He said to his wife (his extremely pregnant wife), who stiffened immediately in his embrace.<p>

They were cuddling on their bed, her back lying on his chest and his hands toying with her blonde strands of hair. That was before his confession. Now, she shied away from him, her face tight and unsurprisingly unreadable. He tugged her back, a bit more forcefully than he intended to.

"I will not try to excuse myself, love. What happened was...a two way process. And I figure... Well, I figure you might understand."

Understanding was rarely in her nature in the first place. And in this situation...

"And I wonder if slapping you now would serve any purpose at all. If it does, do grit your teeth tight, husband." Her words came out more abrasive than she expected it to.

He took her hands in his, his eyes bright and earnest (how the hell can he do that after cheating on his wife was beyond her):

"You know it is never my intention to hurt you."

No. No it is not.

She took a deep breath and clutched his hands tightly:

"Do you love her?" That was the most important question after all. For her, anyway.

He shook his head and put his forehead on hers:

"I love _you_, Historia."

She sucked in a shaky breath. This was the first time he said _it_.

"I know I never say it enough," (You never said it at all, you dimwit, she thought), "but I love you, truly so."

She cried then. Her eyes squeezed shut and her lips trembled. He put his arms around her and embraced her fully. She felt like such a baby.

After a while, she turn her face up from the crook of his neck, her voice calm and throaty from all the crying:

"How far along is she?" Because god forbid, if he impregnated Mikasa _before_ he did her...

"About four months?"

Her child was seven months along the way.

"Is there anymore...encounter with her after that?" Did he sleep with her more than once?

He shifted a little as his bright gazes found her:

"No. Not at all."

She shifted, falling once more in his embrace and stiffing a sigh. Her mind wandered as his even breathing lulled them both into sleep.

Would Mikasa's child be a boy? Or a girl? Will that child be more beautiful than hers? Will that child, heaven forbid, look more like _him_ than hers?

Her anger flared unexpectedly. At that moment, she decided that she _did_ hate Mikasa after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Again, I don't own a thing.

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><p>Mikasa had never spent much time pondering over her relationship with Eren. As long as she could stay by his side, who'd care what she was for him? That, and the fact that he was known to possess an emotional range of a tree bark and would probably gave her either an exceptionally blank look or a forceful change of topic than be honest with himself (and her). Beside, there never was that much of competition. Girls back at the training camp would often scam with just a look from her, and she had made sure that Eren <em>never<em> go anywhere without her. (Except for the toilet, and the male dorm. But then again, who was stupid enough to actually try to seduce someone at those places?). There had been something going on with Annie, but in the end, it hadn't worked out so well.

So yes, she found it utterly pointless and thoroughly exhausting just thinking about where they were standing. She had more pressing matters to address, one of which concerning the survival of humanity. It served her fine, that reluctance to acknowledge one's feeling. Until The Wedding, it did.

She nearly tripped over her own feet when hearing of Captain Erwin's outrageous order (suggestion? Could it be called that?). And God knew Arkermans _never_ trip. As it stood, she settled for a stagger backward instead.

"Repeat that, Erwin. And be absolutely certain that you know what you are doing."

Those lines weren't hers, but they were spoken in her behalf. She threw Levi a dirty look. Mikasa Arkerman did _not_ need anyone's pity, less that of Humanity's strongest warrior's.

Erwin's unnerving stare was the only answer she needed.

Eren did not protest (she despised herself for even hoped otherwise -she knew him better than that). Historia did not protest -much (the girl cared for nothing that passionate to even have the energy to be stubborn). Mikasa wanted to protest, but she knew damn well that she wasn't in any position to. Truth to be told, she was already half way from jumping at Erwin and snapping his neck, but Levi had swiftly moved between them, his eyes narrowing just a slightest fraction and the fight went out of her like air bursting from a too-tight balloon. She hated it when the guy kept doing that, acting like her brother, while he had never even been a decent cousin in the first place.

She slumped back to her place by the wall, heart racing and head aching. For the very first time in her life, she wondered if dying that day years ago would have been better.

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><p>Armin asked her (nervously) to behave herself at His wedding. It was thoughtful enough of him, but she had almost hit him for the sympathetic expression on his face. Since it was an unwritten rule of the universe that she could never hurt Armin, she turned to clobber Jean instead, for being unfortunate enough to drop his pan on her feet at that exact moment. It wasn't nearly as satisfy as throttling Historia, but it was enough for her to rear in her emotions once more. That was good. Barely, but good either way.<p>

She _did_ behave, in the end. She managed not to kill anyone. She managed not to strangle the bride in front of all the guests. She even managed to refrain from throwing the groom over her shoulder and running for the hills. She was splendid, if she had to say so herself.

Though that splendidness had not hindered her wallowing in self-pity hours later as she drunk herself sick. At one point, Armin tried to stop her, but was driven away by her open hostility and brashness. At another point, Levi joined her at the Depressing Table and helped himself with a cup or two. She gave him the finger and hit her head face down at the table. She wasn't _that_ drunk yet, but people were catcalling for the newlyweds to consummate their marriage. She wished she could have blackout after that. No such luck.

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><p>Loving him has always been as easy as breathing (she did not acknowledge it at first, but it was there anyway, that love). And when that love had to be tucked away into the farthest corner of her heart, Mikasa thought that she could die (a moment of weakness, no more).<p>

Yet, she didn't.

She lived, she fought and she went on with her life.

She might not have him (not really), but she would have his back until the day she died. She would fight on, for his dream if not her own, and she would get out of this godforsaken wall, she would see the ocean. _Their_ ocean.

Just like that, and Mikasa decided that she would be okay.

He didn't change much, after the wedding. Then again, no one on the squad actually expected him to. He fought with his usual single-minded ferocity and maintained his sangfroid in every expedition outside the wall. She was glad (selfishly so).

He never talked about Historia, not when she was in range. She wondered if he knew, and then bitterly squashed down her futile hope. He'd had seven years to know. If he hadn't acted then, what made she think he would act now? Especially when he had a wife already. And while Eren was many things at once, unscrupulous adulterer was not one of them. He valued his sense of morality too much, and she had always loved him for that.

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><p>He had been ten when he decided that his life would ultimately revolve around Titans and walls and the outside world. Watching loved ones died in the most horrible way possible tended to do that to people. So it wasn't as if he didn't know (about Mikasa, about Jean, about, heck, Annie). It was more of the fact that he decided that he would not do a bleeding thing about it. And for the most part, it was pretty successful.<p>

Still, even he sometimes lost it. That moment outside the wall, after he'd just escaped from Reiner's and Betolt's crutches, that moment when she looked at him with tears in her eyes, when Titans stormed noisily all around them and they all going to die in seconds now, he figured that 'to hell with it all'. Then, against his better judgment, he showed her that part of him, the part that not quite so dense and definitely too sentimental for his taste. He remembered that moment from time to time, upbraiding himself severely for letting his emotions get the better of him.

Yet, he did it again. And this time, the result was so spectacular that he could no longer turn a blind eye on it.

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><p>He missed Historia. It had already been two months since the last time they saw each other, and the longing had become a constant itch that never quite seemed to go away. It didn't help that Connie and Sasha chose this exact occasion to announce the disturbing changes in their relationship. The incessant physical intimacies made Levi's homicidal tendency rose at an alarming rate, made Jean's furious self-pity and loneliness increased tenfold, made everyone else miserable and made him think about Historia much more frequently than he should.<p>

Then, when everyone was still very much absorbed in their own little world and their paltry problems (the feeling of peace was an addictive thing), a large-scale attack was launched just outside the wall. Mikasa went missing in the midst of the havoc. He was certain that he had gone mad with worry.

When she showed up at their hideout two nights later, blades still drawn, face covered in blood and tattered clothes stained with dried mud, he had another moment of 'to hell with it all'. He knew it wasn't right. He knew that he would hate himself when day came. He knew that he loved Historia and nothing would worth hurting her. And yet, he needed this. He needed to hold Mikasa in his arms, he needed to touch her, to felt her heartbeat beside his. He realized with a painful tug that _this_ came much more natural than it should.

He woke at first light, hating himself so much it was excruciating.

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><p>He acted as if nothing happened, and so, she, too, didn't say a word. He must have hated himself, she thought. He must have hated himself so bad he almost went into denials. She wondered briefly if it was terrible of her to feel inexplicably giddy despite everything.<p>

Eren's awkward silent treatment ended when she took to emptying her stomach just outside the camp. He staggered back, face drained of blood as realization struck him. He looked at her, really looked at her with those incredibly astonished eyes of his. Beside him, Armin stared back and forth between them, looking alarmed and constipated and who-know-what as he put two and two together (he had always been too keen for his own good). Hours later (or was it minutes? She could no longer tell properly), Levi found the three of them, looking petrified and quite very dead on their feet, and all hell broke loose.

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><p>When she was summoned to have an audience with the queen, Mikasa had expected the worst. Christa had been the nice and forgiving type (to the point that it sometimes got uncomfortable), but Historia...well, she didn't know that much about Historia, but she doubted this queen was sweet enough as to forgive and tolerate random women sleeping with her husband. (She wasn't random to Eren, or to Christa -for that matter, but she was pretty certain that she was random to Historia).<p>

"Do close the door, Mikasa. I'd hated it if our conversation make it to the gossip mills before I even open my mouth." Historia's voice was calm and conversational, as if they were about to discuss the weather.

In a way, she was not sure that wasn't the case.

Compiling in dull motions, she moved to the cushion in front of Historia and settled on it. As the silence ticked by, she made to speak first:

"Am I to be called here to watch you sipping on your cup of tea and feel mightily uncomfortable the whole time?"

She knew that she wasn't in any position to be caustic, but somehow, she couldn't seem to bring herself to care.

Historia looked up from her cup and fixed Mikasa with an unreadable stare (that usual creepy, semi-horrible and semi-vulnerable stare of hers, how did Eren stand it?):

"Why is it you haven't ask for a maternal leave? Heaven knows Erwin would be too intimidated by Levi that his acceptance will be easy enough."

Of all things she had expected the queen to say, this certainly was not it.

"... They'll put me up for paperwork one of these days. I'm pregnant, not disabled."

She wondered if it would be more proper to add 'your highness' at the end of the sentence, but then scoffed and disregarded it entirely. If Historia had decided to hold a grudge against her, she would have plenty of reasons to choose from that impolite speech and terrible manner would never make it to the top of the list.

"You are in your sixth month, and the child you are carrying is hardly an ordinary one, seeing as its father is my consort. Shouldn't you care more about its safety? Do you intend to give birth to a babe anywhere near a drooling titan? You are not in any condition to keep flying around murdering titans, Mikasa."

She had no idea what had prompted her to do so, but she snorted a laugh so loud that even _she_ was astonished with herself.

"Do you mind, Historia? (She still couldn't quite bring herself to address the girl as 'your highness') I thought sanctimonious Christa was a history already? Or are you going back to those days of being a scrupulous saint that creep the hell out of normal people around you?"

Because Mikasa had always been better with blades and fists, this might be the very first time she used her words to attack someone, however feeble that attempt was.

Historia was giving her a wary look, the one that people often gave to a particularly dangerous animal that would roar and pounce spectacularly in the matter of minutes. In the end, the queen asked with a slow and neutral voice:

"So you'd prefer me jumping at you with foul cusses on my lips and hands balled into fists? Or do you expect me to slap you repeatedly while screeching like a banshee? Maybe a bit of hair pulling, just for the effect?" Her voice rose dangerously with each syllable and her blue eyes gleamed with emotions, perhaps hate. Mikasa could see it now, the simmering anger just below the surface of her sangfroid. She did care. She did think about it.

Somehow, that made it all better. Because this Historia was the one Mikasa understood, the one she could relate to, the one that actually _made_ sense. She never knew how important it was for her to truly come face to face with the woman who shared the same love for Eren. She smiled a little:

"Finally. Don't you think I (of all people) could handle this?"

The queen sucked in a deep breath and fixed a stare at her:

"For what purpose, Mikasa? What's done is done and I don't find howling and crawling at your eyeballs will make me feel any better, or make you less pregnant with my husband's child, for that matter. So what's the point?"

Mikasa pondered. She had been doing a lot of that lately. Did this have anything to do with hormonal mood-swings as well?

"The point is," She started slowly, "you should be more honest with yourself. Sometimes people can't help but do irrational things, and bottling up all of it will give you more than just psychological disorder and a bloody migraine, shouldn't you know that by now?" She straightened up and added as an afterthought, "and when we're at it, I'm not going to apologize."

Historia waved her off as if she was swatting a particular persistent fly:

"I never expect you to. Please, I _did_ spend more than five years with you and Eren. In fact," the queen smirked just slightly, "it came as quite a surprise that you hadn't tried to throttle me before the wedding."

Mikasa tried to keep her grimace as subtle as possible, but it seemed futile nonetheless. Was she _that_ predictable?

"Yes. When it comes to Eren, you are."

Historia shrugged and answered her question before the words were even out of her mouth. Damn. This was annoying.

"So...you don't hate me? Is that what you are saying?" She prompted carefully, studying Historia's face all the while. This was too good, no, too preposterous to be true.

Historia ignored the way Mikasa's eyes seemed to bore holes into the side of her head:

"I tolerate you, to be more specific." Her blue eyes narrowed just a slightest fraction as she quirked a tight smile, "Your love will keep him safe, for I cannot be there for him outside the wall. Your devotion will keep him alive, alive so that he can come back to me. I can't make you stop loving him, nor can I force out the part of him that will keep loving you. But I can satisfy myself with the fact that he loves me just as much as he does you. Or maybe more, I don't know."

Mikasa knew that pity should be the last thing she could feel for the other woman. Still, it was true that sometimes people couldn't help doing the irrational thing. Her voice was low and soft as she asked:

"Will it be enough for you, that kind of love?"

Historia straightened her back and put on an expressionless mask almost immediately (Did this, too, came with being a queen? Then Mikasa was genuinely glad that she was not in Historia's shoes):

"Of course it will not be enough. But it's all I have now." Her eyes shone brightly at this point, "Perhaps my love for him will be enough for both of us."

"Perhaps." She agreed despite herself (and pondered some more about the unfairness of life). They both knew that Eren would never touch her again, being a good person he was. A mistake would forever stay as a mistake. She just needed time to come to term with this, hard as it may.

"Beside," Historia was smiling now, the kind of genuine smile that was unbelievably contagious, "Knowing Eren, each of us might only occupy a little bit more than ten percent of his mind anyway. The rest will be contributed swiftly to his obsession with titans and the world beyond those walls. Why squabble when titans are obviously more of a love rival than anything else?"

Mikasa's smile came easier this time, more natural, and in the end, she even laughed softly along. It was nice, even if she was only being tolerated.

* * *

><p>Historia might be the one giving birth, but Eren sure acted like he was the one going into labor. He sweated, he paled, he paced restlessly and he swore like a sailor every given minute. Beside her, Armin kept smiling nervously and cringing each time a new curse was uttered from Eren's mouth. He was to be a Godfather. That tended to make one nervous. She, on the other hand, just stood rooted in her place, shifting ever so slightly as Historia's agonized groan echoed shrilly through the hall. At that horrible sound, Eren stopped moving back and forth, looking as if he was about to either burst into tears or start hyperventilating. In the end, he chose to swear some more. Armin shrunk further into his seat, giving the ceiling a beseeching stare, mouth tightened into an inaudible prayer. Prayer to whom, she did not know. None of them did, really. Should anyone pray to a God that let wretched creatures like Titans roam the world and murder innocents? Was that God even existed?<p>

"Your Highness!" The urgent voice snapped her out of her reverie. Almost on reflexes, Mikasa's hands moved to touch her belly and soothed quietly at the way her baby kicked vehemently in protest of the sudden noise.

Eren surged forward, pupils dilated and lips pressed tightly together. Definitely the one going into labor. She wondered briefly if he would be this worry when it was her turn to give birth. She hoped not. He would make her too nervous about his psychological state outside the door to actually remember to push.

"A girl, your Highness! We have a princess!" The maid's (was she a maid?) voice was elated and understandably breathless.

Armin let out a long sigh and fixed his expression into something less greenish as he pushed Eren forward:

"Eren! A girl! Come on!"

Without a word, Eren blinked slowly once, twice, thrice before pushing his way quite aggressively into the room. A cry (the one that had echoed just minutes before, why hadn't she noticed?) greeted him. Mikasa let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding and smiled, just a slightest bit. Armin grinned from ear to ear as he took in her expression. She didn't know that it would mean that much to him. But it was, maybe it had always been. Her amazing friend that was always on her side and wishing for her happiness.

They waited a full five minutes before peeking in. The room was bright, as if the child had brought the light in with her arrival. Eren was lying on his side by Historia, a small bundle nestled neatly in the middle of them. The couple was smiling (Historia's tired but happy one; Eren's soft and wondering one) and whispering to each other with gentle endearments that Armin and Mikasa couldn't catch.

They did love each other, oh so much. She wondered if this was her being bitter.

Life was not fair. Love was not fair. And they had made such a mess of themselves that the word 'unfairness' wouldn't even begin to cover it. Still, as long as he was happy, as long as he had that beautiful smile on his lips, she would be okay, regardless. She would be okay.

(She pushed the maybes, the perhaps and the one-days down to the pit of her stomach. Push enough and it might even become true.)


	3. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Is this even necessary anymore. I don't own anything.

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><p><em>The sky was still a grey hue when the two of them passed through the gate. Without a word, The Girl made her way straight to the grave of her mother, kneeling down to put the flowers on the cold surface. She hated graveyards, had always felt more than a little uncomfortable when she had to attend a funeral as a part of her duty, but that discomfort had developed into a full-blown hatred since her last visit, after she lost mother. Dying of poison in a world where there were a hundred and two much more dramatic ways of passing away -where soldiers still fought tooth and nail for each and every meters of land beyond the wall, where titans was the main reason for the terrible mortality rate of the population- was the lamest way to go, and it had taken her a long time to register that it was exactly the way her mother had passed away.<em>

_Mother had been a beloved queen. Yet, no one would be loved by all. It was just mother's horrible luck that the meager number of people who hated her was exceptional in concocting poison. One day, The Girl vowed, one day, she would find them, and she would destroy them all._

_Behind her, The Boy stood with his face turning upward and his dark eyes trailing aimlessly across the sky. Dawn was coming; people would start wondering where they were soon. He wished that they wouldn't worry so. As long as he was by her side, there was no way anything would happen to The Girl. He would not allow it._

_The Boy had wanted to pay his respect as well, but he knew, deep down, that he really didn't have any right to. He was not her son (he had his own mother, whom he loved), he was just a reminder of everything father had done wrong in his life. (People talked, everyday and every time father, mother, the former queen or The Girl was not there. He just chose to drone them out. For the most part, it was a successful feat.) Still, growing up the way he did, with a father and a mother that were rarely home (they had been devoting everything for the sake humanity, he knew that -didn't mean that sometimes it wasn't too much for him), the owner of this grave was the closest to a parental figure that he had ever had. She had been kind to him, even though she had no reason to. She had taught The Girl to love him, to love even his mother, and for that, he was forever grateful._

_"Mother," The Girl was talking now, her voice quiet but strong as a smile lifted a corner of her lips, "All have been well. Our territory has expanded nearly twice the size of when you were alive. It's all thanks to father, I think. Sad as he was about your death, he has been devoting everything he has in spending as much time away as possible, killing as many titans as possible and securing our defense as flawless as possible. I have been a bit worried, but since Mikasa is with him, I doubt my concern is necessary."_

_She and The Boy shared a smile before continuing:_

_"She will save him even when he doesn't want to save himself. But you have already known that, haven't you, mother?"_

_Her voice cracked a little, involuntarily. She steadied herself as The Boy's warm hand tentatively touched her shoulder:_

_"Levi and Hange have officially embarked on some very awkward mating rituals that make everyone both relieve and deeply terrified at the same time. Sasha has just given birth to the third child, a girl this time, much to Connie's delight. Uncle Armin and Jean still dance around each other like doofuses that they are. Brother has become Captain Arckerman, in the process of being transferred into the MP. He said he wanted to be my personal guard, instead of living his own life like a normal person." She smiled again as she felt his quiet laughter echoed tersely across the graveyard. "I am fine, missing you terribly and wanting to murder my advisors in their sleep, but fine, nonetheless. So you, too, mother, you must be happy, all right? Wherever you are."_

_She faltered for a moment, before added in a breathless whisper:_

_"I love you."_

_She had not said those words enough, not when it actually mattered. Mother and Mikasa always teased that she was father's daughter through and through. She had always thought of it as a compliment, until the day she lost mother and the words stuck at the side of her throat like an ache that never really went away. The Boy was the only one she confided in, but he, too, had no idea how to sooth something that had already become permanent. Because of this, she understood what father had been going through. And so, she was grateful for Mikasa's presence beside him._

_The Girl stood up, brushing the dirt off her hand and studying the ground beneath her feet. She had cried enough back then. She had cried enough even yesterday, so she would not cry now. She had just assured mother that she would be fine._

_"Do you think she will be happy?" The Boy asked, his voice hushed and solemn, "That father and my mother..."_

_The Girl took his offering arm and shook her head, just a slightest jerk:_

_"I don't know. But there isn't anything between them yet, you know that."_

_He didn't say anything, just averted his eyes and tugged her along without a word. The unsaid 'Just a matter of time' hovered between them like a cloud._

_Maybe because he was so quiet that she had always felt that she talked enough for the both of them. Liked at this moment:_

_"Perhaps. But I think she will be glad that he has found his happiness."_

_"..." The Boy offered The Girl a small smile and squeezed her hand._

_She smiled back at him, green eyes twinkling with melancholic mirth. They would all be okay. Mother would have wanted that._


End file.
